Deception
by fanfictioniwrite
Summary: I wonder how many people I've looked at and never seen, how many people have looked at me and have never seen anything except the flashy cover. One-sided BebexWendy (Repost)


**Deception  
**

**Summary: **I wonder how many people I've looked at and never seen, how many people have looked at me and have never seen anything except the flashy cover. One-sided BebexWendy (Repost)

**Warning:** Some foul language.

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I get up at five o'clock in the morning as usual.

No, not to study – don't be silly, dear. I walk towards my wardrobe half asleep, make up smeared all over my face from last night's party. I pull out from the closet a really short pink skirt and a black blouse which "leaves nothing hidden" as Clyde likes to point out.

Clyde is my boyfriend…sorta. But so is Kenny. And Gregory and Christophe (threesome isn't as good as they say). Also Kyle – he was angry and I like it rough, also Red and also….well, yeah I guess you get the general idea.

What I mean everyone is my boyfriend …or my girlfriend. What? I like to keep it open minded.

I go to the bathroom mirror and sigh – my bleached curly hair is a mess as usual. I turn on my hair straighter and wait for it to reach its highest temperature, which is going to take a few moments.

So I embark on the trip from an average girl to a pretty one.

First – base, then foundation. Scarlet lipstick. Thick eyeliner. Eye shadow. Rouge, you name it. Practically any make up product you've ever heard of is on my face. It looks more like a painting canvas than a normal human face.

Yeah, you can call me fake if you want but the thing is I wouldn't care. Ever heard of something natural these days? You have? Oh, good for you, I haven't.

My hair straighter is ready and I calmly start straightening my hair.

Some random thought rushes through my mind as I comb and straighten locks of my hair.

I remember how yesterday we studied about sins. Or at least Wendy says so – I can't know since I spent classes with Kenny in the boys' toilet on the third floor bringing our biology lessons into practice.

I wonder what my sin is as I put on a pair of neon pink earrings.

_Vanity_. It's not part of the seven deadly sins, but none of the other suits me.

I didn't know what vanity meant, I just assumed it is another way of saying "whore" (a word people love to use when describing me) but Wendy explained it to me.

People call me vain all the time, especially Kyle but maybe he just can't get over the fact that we hooked up when he had one of those "anger issues episodes". It probably had something to do with Cartman calling him a "sneaky Jew" and stealing his hat. I swear those two should have some hate sex so we could all have a break from their fights.

Others say nothing but looks matters to me. But aren't they the same? Would anyone be with me if it weren't for my looks?

I guess this is why Wendy says society is hypocritical. I am not entirely sure what that means either but it's something in the lines that you say one thing but mean another. Like a deception in a way. Just like looks are a deception.

You know all my boyfriends (I have done it basically with all the boys at school except for Stan (he is gay and poor old Wendy sadly doesn't see it), Butters (he doesn't know where to stick his dick) and Cartman – he is fat.

All boys say I am hot. Sexy. Looking like a porn star…But never beautiful.

No, I guess beauty is a quality girls like Wendy possess.

Wendy. I love that girl (and, no, not in the "she's like my sister" kind of way but more like "I want to have a party without undies with her" kind of way). She is the smartest person I've ever met, she has her principles and says she has something which she calls integrity - I'm not sure what that is but it must be something nice.

I have offered her sex countless times, the first time in the ninth grade when we were in the showers after cheerlead practice. I remember her wet and pale, her hair smelling of flowers and herbs (like the cheap shampoo she buys from Wallmart) and her ranting on and on about some mathematics theorems.

There, right there with no make up and not a trace of deception, she was perfection.

I pushed those glossy raven locks away from her face before I leaned in and kissed her briefly on the lips and she didn't pull away. I guess she felt sorry for me, not like I am not used to it.

I offered her sex and she refused. I thought that was because we were young but then throughout tenth and eleventh she kept refusing. Even now she refuses, says she doesn't love me _that_ way.

Well, it's not like I love Clyde, Token or Craig that way, it's not like I love anyone that way (apart from her and that's just a bitter irony) but that doesn't stop me from screaming their names on top of my lungs, does it now?

But I guess she is right and I don't blame her – I am not worthy, I am not good enough for her. Not to mention we don't choose the ones we love after all.

But the thing is sex is the only thing I feel like I can offer…pathetic right? You have no idea.

She can't understand that all I have is my body and I feel as if I have no other use, I have no other contribution to the world as my dad has told me countless times (yeap, daddy issues and a whole heap of them).

My mum is always silent though for she is the one who taught me all of this, she taught me about make up instead of math, she told me all a girl has to be is pretty…

And this is true, in a society which in general is one big deception as those goth kids like to write in their overdramatic, shitty poems and your looks is your best weapon.

Well, not according to Wendy.

She is not only pretty, no, there is something else in her gray eyes, in her smile - it's like some inner beauty, not that anyone really believes in that crap.

I possess no such thing. I am what you see. The tall blond chick with the deep cleavage and lots of make up. I am hot but not beautiful.

Yes, I am vain, I judge other people according to their appearance.

I think about vain things such as shoes, make up and jewelry. Before I go to sleep I don't think of the future, I don't think of going to college, of changing the world like Wendy does I am sure, I think of which bra I should wear the next day.

Or count, using my fingers, how much calories there are in my next meal. Or just skip the next meal.

I look confident to you? Another deception, I swear this world is too deceptive eve for a girl like me.

Does any confident girl get up at five in the morning in order to straighten her hair?

Does any confident girl ever starve in order to loose those damn few pounds?

Does any confident girl put a finger down her throat after breakfast in order to impress pervs, people with no ambition in their lives, people who see her as I peace of meat?

It's amazing how much you appearance can differ from who you are. It's amazing how you can look so happy, confident and contend _and _feel miserable.

Sometimes when I am high and I lay in bed next to Bill or John, or some other name I am not going to remember, I wonder how many people I've looked at and never seen, how many people have looked at me and have never seen anything except the flashy cover.

Then again is there anything besides the cover? Probably not.

Have you ever thought about why people are vain? Have you ever thought why looks are so important, have always been important and always will be?

I think about this every day of my life – when I am in class and I don't get a single point of the long physics equation the teacher is scrambling on the white board, or when Clyde tries to write a shitty poem about my hotness and wonders aloud what rhymes with tits.

And I've finally reached to a conclusion - it's simply because all some people have is looks.

They have nothing more… We have nothing more. We are empty shallows but at least beautiful shallows. People like this…people like me become shadows of their appearance - this is what defines us, what differentiates us…what makes us the people we are.

It is sad really. It is sad how we all have to fit into some crazy stereotypes just because other people say so.

But the thing is I started believing them – and now all you see is all you get.

No thoughts, no dreams, no hopes.

Vanity is all there is to me these days.

But why am I thinking all of this? I don't even know if it makes any sense but at five o'clock in the morning, battling a heavy hangover and failing miserably at it, you're not all that smart really. But then again I am just yet another stupid blonde, aren't I?

A ten in appearance, a zero in everything else…

You know how people say that vain people are confident?

That's a lie. At least in my case. I am not confident at all. In fact most of the time I think I am some useless creature, I think the world would be the same with or without me. I am just another hot girl. After twenty years or even less I won't have even my pretty looks. What will I have _then_? What difference do _I _make?

Why am I thinking all of this? Vanity is a sin but thinking about sins makes you frown which leads to…yes, wrinkles, you guessed it.

And see – there are tears in my eyes! I simply can't ruin my make up now, can I?

I stop thinking about such stuff and in general stop thinking about anything like I do most of the time. I bet thinking leads to wrinkles too…

I pull down even more my blouse, put on the short skirt not caring about freezing whether outside and finish it off with nine inch heels. Off to a striptease club? No, just school. Not that there is a difference really. In both places you'll find people equally lost.

I look at myself in the mirror. Pale blue eyes meet my stare and I realise I know nothing about the person I am looking at.

Then again, is there anything to know about her?

No thoughts, no ambition, no dreams…

Vanity, vanity and nothing but vanity.

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_**A/N:** I was inspired to write this from a confession a girl had made on Tumblr, of course I am not going to mention name/url but it really got me thinking and I thought Bebe was the most appropriate for this kind of story._

_Please excuse any grammar/language mistakes for English isn't my mother language._

_Disclaimer: Of course I do not own South Park, if I wouldn't be writing fanfiction and the series wouldn't be as awesome as T&R make them to be. __Also, as stated in the summary, this is a repost._

_I hope you enjoyed this__ or even if you didn't -__ say so__.__ All feedback __is__ appreciated and review serve as an inspiration to keep writing!  
_

**_19-06-2014_**


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